


Summer Camp Bruises

by Bear_shark



Series: Ficlets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Bittersweet Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_shark/pseuds/Bear_shark
Summary: Steve wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. In truth, he hadn’t been eager to make friends in the first place, but now that he had, he wasn’t letting Bucky go easily.They had met on the side of the lake, both boys being teased for not wanting to take their shirts off. Steve couldn’t understand why Bucky would hide, even at thirteen he was broad and muscled. Steve was all skin and ribs, a slightly concave chest, and being teased for not taking his shirt off was preferable to being teased about his actual body.





	Summer Camp Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. All mistakes are mine.

Steve wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. In truth, he hadn’t been eager to make friends in the first place, but now that he had, he wasn’t letting Bucky go easily. 

They had met on the side of the lake, both boys being teased for not wanting to take their shirts off. Steve couldn’t understand why Bucky would hide, even at thirteen he was broad and muscled. Steve was all skin and ribs, a slightly concave chest, and being teased for not taking his shirt off was preferable to being teased about his actual body.

Bucky and Steve commiserated together from outside the water, making up stories about how Brock and Jasper were probably swallowing fish poop. But the fourth day in, Steve couldn’t take sitting in the heat anymore and wheedled Bucky into taking their shirts off at the same time.

“Geez, buy a guy dinner first,” Bucky had said. Steve didn’t really know what that meant, and he got the feeling Bucky didn’t either.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve whined. “It won’t be so bad if we do it together.”

Bucky grumbled ineffectually and nodded. The two boys counted to three and hurriedly took their shirts off. Steve’s hands immediately crossed his chest as he tried to hide his skinny frame.

There was no hiding for Bucky. Bruising, most of it fading to greens and yellows, littered his chest and back.

“Is that from playing football or something?” Steve asked. It didn’t seem like that made sense, but then Steve figure he didn’t play sports much and wouldn’t know.

“Uh, yeah. I play with my cousins. Only we don’t use pads.” He had a sort of dry chuckle at the end of the sentence, and when Steve nodded, relief was evident on Bucky’s face. 

Steve didn’t know what to say next, so he settled for, “Race ya to the water?” 

Bucky grinned and took off running with Steve following behind, laughing and yelling, “I didn’t say go yet!” 

Once the other boys realized how strong and athletic Bucky was, they were eager to play with him. Brock, in particular, was impressed by all the bruising and was convinced that Bucky was in a secret fight club. Steve, who’d been in too many fights himself, knew they weren't something to brag about. Besides, every time Brock brought up the bruises, Bucky’s face screwed up in some mixture of embarrassed/sad/mad, and Steve would have done anything to get that look off Bucky’s face. 

“Leave him alone, Brock,” Steve said, as Brock egged Bucky on, likely hoping for a description of a fight. “Buck and I have to go to art class.” 

Brock’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “Oh, you and  _ Buck _ have to do that? Are you going to braid each other’s hair and paint nails after?” Brock swished his hand from side to side, limp wristed. “Bucky’s not like you, queer.” 

Bucky’s face flushed bright red, and for one mortifying moment, Steve was sure Bucky was going to turn on him. But Bucky stood up, puffed his chest out, and trained a near murderous glare on Brock. “He’s my friend. Don’t talk to him that way.” 

Brock cowered for a second before remembering himself and scowling. Bucky walked over to Steve, still shooting murderous little glares at Brock while they made their way to the arts and crafts building. 

They didn’t talk about it, about any of it: Bucky’s bruises, their friendship, what Brock had been implying. Steve painted a view of the sunset over the lake, and Bucky drew a cartoon of Steve giving Brock the finger. 

They were inseparable the rest of the month. Bucky’s bruises faded, and his skin tanned a lovely olive color that covered any remaining marks. He did teach Steve a little about fighting, mostly the safe places to take a hit, and Steve decided not to think about how Bucky knew that information. Bucky didn’t seem to want to talk about it anyways. 

If Steve had known then what love was, he might have suspected he was in love with Bucky. But he was too young to grasp the full ramifications of it, only knew that he cherished his friend, wrestling in the lake, playing basketball until Steve had to take a break to use his inhaler, and staying up laughing until their camp counselor, Fury, threatened to put them in separate cabins. 

When the month came to an end, Steve wasn’t ready to let go. It wasn’t only that he had made a new best friend, his first and only. It was also that Bucky had seemed freer and more relaxed as each day passed, and Steve wanted to keep him like this, carefree and happy, not brooding and withdrawn. 

Whoever had caused those bruises would be waiting for Bucky, and Steve ached that he was powerless to protect him. 

“Stop thinking so hard, punk,” Bucky said, shoving Steve lightly on the shoulder. They sat on the pier, toes dipped in the lake water, watching the fireflies light up the camp. “We’ll see each other next summer.” 

Steve bit his lip, feeling hesitant. “Bucky, you know, if you’re not okay at home, maybe one of the adults-” 

“You sound like Fury,” Bucky said, his tone casual but forced. “Everything’s fine. Let’s just have fun tonight.” 

Steve wanted to do that, wanted to rally for Bucky, to have one more boisterous night, but it was too much. Gingerly, he laid his head on Bucky’s shoulder, who froze for a moment before sighing happily. 

“Gonna miss you,” Steve whispered. 

“Me, too, Stevie.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that was sad. :(


End file.
